Shiva
by manic
Summary: A requiem for those lost


Shiva

The second time Laura Bristow died, it was final.

Irina made her way across the pitted grounds. They always looked so pristine, cemeteries, but each step among the graves reminded her of what lay beneath her feet. Under the grass placed so carefully, the ground was rocky and uneven. Her path was circular, checking for pitfalls, snipers, and avoiding the stray mourner.

"Stop." Jack's voice was harsh, controlled and as cold as she had ever heard it. He knelt before a marker, one she had seen only in pictures, staring at the words etched in stone, ones that she had toasted years ago in recognition of a job well done.

Laura Bristow

Forever and a Day

Irina stood, feet at the ready, for Jack looked to be for all intents and purposes a cornered man. Hunched over, hands held at his waist, he never looked up at her, but she thought, well, she knew, he'd seen her coming.

"Not one step closer," Jack rasped.

Slowly, Irina lowered her hands to her side, tilting her left ever slightly to have ready access to the weapon she carried to that side.

"No."

Irina steadied her breathing as Jack separated his hands and revealed the glock held in his hand, without conscious thought she balanced on either foot, ready to spring, a gesture and movement that reflected her years of survival. Even so, she was surprised that the gun remained cocked, ready, yet pointing nowhere, as though Jack had to decide what to do with it. She knew this to be a lie. Jack rarely acted impulsively; even his most rash actions had a point and counter-point, feints within thrusts, thirty steps ahead on the chessboard, so they faced the gravestone, a gun clutched where a mourner's bouquet should be.

They stood, two figures in a tableau that mocked the others in the graveyard, guns defiling the place, but even more, Irina knew it was the lie that turned this little scene into a travesty. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, as both protection and preparation, if this were to turn deadly, there was an escape route to the South, cover to the West and well, this was isolated from the rest of the graves, to her left was the wall that separated the suicides from the rest of the dead. It would be an ideal spot to hide a body if the need arose. For now, she just waited.

"It should have rained, as much of a cliché that is." Jack began, "Instead, Sydney played in the yard that morning, with that little doll my wife had given her for her birthday. Never saw it again. But here, the weather was perfect. I thought I was surrounded by people that cared for Laura, for us, but they were here to stop me from defecting." Jack's head tilted to the side and she saw the little twitch of his lips at the last comment. "But, I had no clue. That night, there was all this food, noise and a full house; it took forever to get everyone out. But even then, Arvin and Emily stayed over. Sydney curled in her lap and then came over and held my hand. She took me to garden, where the roses that Emily had planted with Sydney were blooming. I thought I'd vomit at their odor. Sydney showed me the grave she dug for her doll. She wanted Laura to have something in heaven." Jack swayed a bit and Irina realized that at this moment he might not be either sane or sober.

"We watched the sun go down," Jack continued, "and then went inside. I couldn't look at Laura's and my bed. We went into Sydney's bedroom and as she fell asleep I watched her. The next morning Arvin suggested that Emily take Sydney for a walk and just minutes after she left, the FBI, Internal Affairs and the Director showed up. They took me into custody and I could see agents beginning to search the house."

"They took me to headquarters and the interrogation started. All I could think of was getting back to Sydney, but there weren't any windows and the next time I looked up six months had gone by, and the situation had changed."

Irina remembered the reports, the laughter, and the jokes. Her mission had been a complete success, with the illusion over; she'd risen quickly in rank, this victory the cornerstone of her career in the KGB. For all that, there were many more deeds that gained her even wider recognition and reward. For many years, she viewed those years as a mere blip in the radar, something past and not to reflect upon.

Jack shifted on his knees and Irina tensed, but she was a step slow and Jack brought his weapon to bear. She looked unflinching into the barrel of the gun, held by a man who bore all too much a resemblance to a man she once knew.

"I'd look at you and try to see Laura, in the turn of your head, a phrase, but nothing. It occurred to me as I watched you this past week, that Laura was nothing to you. You left her behind on a pier, spat her blood into the sea and, well-" Jack ground to a halt, his eyes never leaving Irina's.

"She was so beautiful, Laura, that is. I see you and, its tainted and poison and I run to it anyway." His gun never wavering Jack stood, now aiming directly at her forehead. Irina wasn't too worried, a good roundhouse would shatter Jack's arm.

"I loved my wife with everything that I was. You aren't her, you never were. I see you Irina." Jack said as he whirled around to the gravestone and quickly and precisely shot the words off the headstone. As the clip emptied, Jack dropped the gun into the grass before the grave. Spent, Jack rested both hands atop the granite.

"I see you Irina."

With that, Jack walked away, Irina watched him detour through the walled off part next to them and thought, she really should have brought some flowers.

End


End file.
